


Songs that come from dead men's tongues

by alterocentrist



Series: We found love right where we are [4]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Drabble, F/F, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2581532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alterocentrist/pseuds/alterocentrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The more Carmilla got invested in Laura, the more effort she put into anchoring Laura into their world, when the dreams threatened to take her away. Covers the time period from Episode 12 to 28.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Songs that come from dead men's tongues

Carmilla was six years old when she first encountered someone having a nightmare.

Her brother was a very still sleeper, so fidgeting was a cause for concern. He was only three at the time, and although they had separate bedrooms, Carmilla - or Mircalla, as she was known back then - often let him sneak into hers at night. She knew, better than anyone, that the rooms of their castle got lonely.

What woke her first was the strained sobbing. And then she noticed her brother’s tiny hands tugging on the bedspread. Little Mircalla jumped out of bed and ran out of her bedroom, down the hallway to her mother’s. She roused her and led her to the little boy in her bed. By this time, he was thrashing. Anxious, Mircalla stepped back, while her mother, unfazed, placed one hand on her brother’s arm and another on his shoulder.

“Leopold. Leopold.” She shook his arm lightly.

The sobbing stopped and his eyes fluttered open. Upon seeing his mother, his small body relaxed.

“Shhh, Leopold,” their mother said. “It’s all right, darling. It’s just a bad dream. It’s all better now.” She murmured a brief prayer in Latin - one that her father’s monk friend taught them, telling them it would keep the bad dreams away - while stroking Leopold’s hair. When she finished, she turned around to address Mircalla. “See? He’ll be all right. The angels are watching him.”

Mircalla approached her brother and held his hand in one of hers. She wanted to know what had caused him to be so frightened, but didn’t want him to dwell on what he could have seen in his mind. She thought that the angels would not be too happy if she caused her brother more pain.

* * *

When Laura started having nightmares, guilt formed a nasty pool in Carmilla’s stomach.

After “losing” one too many girls, Mother had demoted her to babysitting the freshman who could apparently ruin the entire operation. Carmilla didn’t know how Mother believed that, for Laura was just over five feet of neuroticism and indignance when she first met her. She assumed that they were mostly harmless qualities.

She realised soon enough that Laura was anything but. Yet she did not intervene when Laura documented her investigations. When the town hall was called. When she managed to find a way to upload the videos secretly. In fact, she found herself admiring the girl’s perseverance, even when she was technically meant to quash it.

And now, the nightmares. Mother was out to get Laura. Carmilla believed it was her fault. She had the powers to get her to keep quiet without having to harm her, but she didn’t use any of them. All because she was daring enough, stupid enough to place a bit of hope that this mortal girl might just have what it takes to bring Mother down.

Who’s naive now?

* * *

Carmilla did not bother to do anything the first few nights when the nightmares began. Sometimes, she even left their dorm room, leaving Laura tossing and turning and whimpering on her bed. Carmilla would put on her boots, swallow hard, and leave to find a quiet place. Out of sight, out of mind. Avoiding her problems using this approach never failed before.

Well, until it did. She returned from a hunt when Laura was in the middle of a nightmare. This was seventh night.

“No, no! I can’t… I can’t…” she cried, half her face pressed into her yellow pillow. Her hands were balled into fists. “No, don’t make me, please.”

Carmilla placed her bag - filled with a few days’ supply of blood - on the floor. She sat down on the edge of her bed and leaned forward, elbows on knees. She watched Laura, who continued protesting against the horrors in her sleep. Out of habit, Carmilla took a deep breath to collect herself, before entering Laura’s subconscious as a big black cat.

As soon as she set foot in Laura’s mind, the nightmare faded instantly. Too quick for her to see what Laura had been struggling against. She could call them back; she was part of this evil, after all. But her roommate was finally sleeping peacefully for the first time in ages. Carmilla could not bring it upon herself to take that away from her. In her cat form, she aimlessly explored Laura’s subsconscious. She did not want to pry in the corners of her mind, even if she could, because she didn’t feel like she was worthy of it.

* * *

She did not visit Laura’s dreams the following night. She was going to, until she noticed that their room smelled of the tall, beautiful redhead, and then jealousy consumed her. Perhaps she was being petty, but she knew better than to enter someone’s mind when she was pissed off.

Laura’s nightly struggle was louder this time around. But she managed to snap herself out of it - Carmilla admired how strong-willed she could be - and kept herself awake with her computer for the rest of the night. Carmilla lay in bed and listened to her typing and occasional murmuring until it lulled her to sleep.

The next day, after her classes, she picked out a batwing charm for Laura. She tried not to show that her whole body was aching when she brought it to their dorm room.

* * *

For someone who seemed so determined to remain at full capacity until the whole kidnapping issues is put to rest, Laura sure was stubborn. When Carmilla entered into their dorm room later that night, half a day after storming off during LaFontaine’s impromptu inquisition, the nightmares were taking hold of Laura again.

LaFontaine craned their head to look at Carmilla. “What the hell?” they demanded.

A quick glance at Laura’s wrist indicated that she didn’t have the charm on. On any other night, Carmilla would have rolled her eyes and asked herself why she was so invested in this girl. But tonight she hurried to Laura’s side.

Like her mother did with Leopold centuries ago, she placed one hand on Laura’s arm, and the other on her shoulder. She called out her name five times. To bring Laura back, anchor her to where she was safe. “You’re dreaming,” she told the girl as she woke up. “It was just a dream.” Her hand moved from Laura’s shoulder to the back of her head. She became too aware of the girl’s soft hair underneath her fingers. A tender “Hey,” escaped her lips as Laura’s lost, fearful eyes met hers.

A few hours later, upon returning from the library - which they agreed to never speak of again - they bade LaFontaine goodbye and intended to get some sleep before they cracked into the Sumerian tome. Laura, changed into fresh pyjamas, sat on her bed, gaze on the floor as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Cupcake, you should sleep,” Carmilla said. “You’ll want to be alert later.”

Laura did not reply.

“Hey, come on,” Carmilla urged. “Put that charm on and the nightmares won’t come back.”

Laura reached for the charm on her desk and slipped it on her wrist. She traced the edge of the batwing before looking up at Carmilla. “Thanks,” she said.

Carmilla swung her legs under her covers and reclined back on her pillow. “For what, buttercup?”

“For coming to the library with us,” Laura said. “For waking me from that nightmare.”

“Don’t mention it. Good night.” Carmilla abruptly turned to face the wall and listened to Laura’s gradually slowing heartbeat, until she was sure that she had fallen asleep.

* * *

When she woke up the next morning, there was a fresh glass of blood and a plate of baked goods from the cafeteria on Laura’s desk. Her laptop screen propped up a piece of paper. It was a neatly handwritten note: _Morning, got you some breakfast. Eat up, just picking up Sumerian dictionaries from the library with LaF and we’ll regroup here :) Laura_

Smiling despite herself, Carmilla gratefully reached for the glass of blood and indulged in a Nutella croissant. She probably should have told them that she could read Sumerian, or that the food of mortals was just something that vampires enjoyed for pleasure, not sustenance. But Laura might not have been so thoughtful. And there was a peculiar, but not unpleasant, flutter in her stomach at the image of Laura standing over the table of baked goods, trying to choose a handful that she assumed Carmilla would like.

* * *

The floor was cold and hard, like she expected. She lay her head on the Sumerian tome, inhaling the smell of musty leather - which wasn’t pleasant, but there could be infinitely worse things. She regretted not taking her pillow, but she only had one - currently being used by Laura - and she didn’t want to disturb Perry by taking Laura’s yellow one from underneath her. Both were already fast asleep.

“LaFontaine. No, no, just… where did you take LaFontaine?”

Carmilla sat up at the sound of Laura’s muttering. She briefly probed the girl’s subconscious. These were not the dreams from the Hungry Light. These were nightmares borne out of Laura’s mind, from weeks of living under stress and fear. She realised how exhausted Laura must be, mentally and physically. How lonely. How vulnerable. How insecure.

And suddenly Carmilla was six again, listening to her mother pray over Leopold. Only this time, she prayed along. “ _Angele Dei, qui custos es mei. Me tibi commissum pietate superna; Hac nocte illumina, custodi, rege, et guberna. Amen._ ”

Laura fell silent and her breathing calmed. But Carmilla, remembering that she had been perpetually skeptical of the faith her family practised, the faith she was taught as a mortal girl, was sure that the Hungry Light - in its real or Laura’s imagined forms - would consider the darkness a more formidable opponent. And so she decided to curl up on the floor of Laura’s subconscious as the big black cat.

No other nightmares would dare disturb the girl that night.

**Author's Note:**

> There are probably lots of nightmare fics already, but this plot bunny just wouldn't escape me. Another thing that I couldn't get off my mind is that Carmilla was a mortal girl during the Habsburg reign of Austria, which meant that she was raised Catholic. 
> 
> I'm not a religious person, but I was raised Catholic too, so this side of Carmilla fascinated me, especially because the Catholic faith is so stuck in rituals and ceremony that have only changed incrementally from the 17th century to today. She would know all the prayers that I would've known growing up, except they would've been in Latin. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by "Anchor Me" by The Mutton Birds, from which the title comes from. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!


End file.
